Chapter 4: She, a Temptress
1844 Words
Chapter 4: She, a Temptress
(Eliza's POV)
The territory enforcers led Victoria away, her face contorted with rage as she hurled one final insult over her shoulder.
"This isn't over, Eliza! You'll regret this!"
I watched impassively as they escorted her to their vehicle, the shattered remains of our Ancient Blood Ruby Vase still scattered across the marble floor. Fifty million dollars, reduced to worthless fragments in a moment of spite.
Once the enforcers' car disappeared down the long driveway, I turned to face our family home. The Stone Pack House stood as the last remnant of our once-proud legacy—a sprawling mansion that had housed generations of Stone pack members.
Everything else was gone. Our investments, our businesses, our assets—all liquidated to pay the mounting debts my father had accumulated. Only this house remained, and I couldn't bear to part with it.
This was where I'd grown up, where I'd learned to navigate life as an Omega in a world that valued strength above all else. These walls held my memories—both good and painful.
"Miss Stone?" Our elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Miller, appeared in the doorway. "Will there be anything else before I leave?"
I shook my head. "No, thank you. And Mrs. Miller... I'm afraid this is your last day."
Her eyes widened. "Miss?"
"I can't afford to keep the staff anymore," I explained gently. "I've arranged severance packages for everyone. It's not much, but it's the best I can do."
Mrs. Miller had been with our family for thirty years. She'd watched me grow up, had bandaged my knees when I fell, had taught me to bake moonlight cookies on full moon nights.
"I understand," she said, her voice thick with emotion. "Your father would be proud of how you're handling everything."
After she left, I wandered through the empty halls, my footsteps echoing in the silence. Sixty million dollars transferred to the creditors, and still a deficit of one billion remained. If I couldn't find a way to pay it, my father would face a decade in pack prison.
The weight of responsibility pressed down on me. I needed to clear my head.
In my bedroom, I shed my clothes, letting them fall to the floor. The red dress I'd worn to the engagement party—the dress I'd worn when I'd encountered Ethan Howe in the garage—lay in a crimson pool at my feet.
I stepped into the bathroom and caught sight of my reflection in the full-length mirror. My snow-white skin still bore faint marks from my encounter with Ethan—slight bruises where his powerful hands had gripped my waist.
My wolf stirred at the memory, recalling the sensation of his large, rough hands on my body. The way he'd pressed me against the wall, his hot breath on my neck, his scent enveloping me.
I traced one of the marks with my fingertip, a shiver running through me. For a brief moment in that garage, I'd felt powerful, desired—not the weak Omega everyone pitied.
The memory was both captivating and haunting. My wolf, usually so quiet within me, seemed to awaken at the thought of the Alpha King.
I turned away from the mirror and stepped into the shower, letting the hot water wash away the day's tensions.
After bathing, I selected a pale long dress from my closet. The fabric flowed around me, accentuating my natural curves while maintaining an air of elegance. I applied a subtle touch of eyeliner, making my amber eyes appear even more enchanting.
As I was about to leave the house, my phone rang. Charles Howe's name flashed on the screen.
I considered ignoring it, but curiosity got the better of me. "Hello, Charles."
"Eliza, when did you start sleeping with my uncle?" His voice was tight with barely controlled rage.
I smiled to myself, settling onto the edge of my bed. "Perhaps you should ask your uncle that question."
"Don't play games with me," he snarled. "You think you're so clever, don't you? Using my uncle as a shield."
"I'm simply moving on with my life," I replied coolly. "Something you clearly did months ago."
Charles laughed bitterly. "Don't delude yourself. You won't last a week by his side. My uncle already has someone in his heart."
His words were meant to wound, but I remained unfazed. I didn't need Ethan's heart—just his protection. In my now perilous world, a single powerful Alpha as my shield would suffice to keep the wolves at bay.
"He has someone in his heart. How coincidental. So do I," I mused, my thoughts drifting to the boy I once admired in the rehabilitation facility.
I wondered where he was now. Had his sight been restored? I was no longer the depressed young girl I used to be—would he even like the woman I'd become?
Back then, in the sanatorium, we didn't have names, only numbers. I remembered him as number 52. I used to secretly make heart shapes with my hands when he couldn't see, a childish gesture that was my little adolescent secret.
Ethan and that boy looked quite similar, but my boy had been warm and sunny, while Ethan was cold as ice. Despite his handsome face, Ethan wasn't really my cup of tea.
Besides, I was no longer worthy of such a wonderful boy as number 52.
"Are you even listening to me?" Charles's voice snapped me back to the present.
"Not particularly," I admitted. "Was there something important you wanted to say?"
He growled in frustration. "I want you to drop the charges against Victoria."
So that was the real purpose of his call—not jealousy, but protection for Victoria.
"She broke our pack's fifty-million-dollar Blood Ruby Vase," I reminded him. "If you want to protect her, pay up."
"Fifty million?" he sputtered. "That's extortion!"
I examined my nails casually. "You're right. Make it sixty million."
"You can't be serious!"
"I'm very serious," I replied. "And if you refuse, I'll release the video of you and Victoria from three months ago. I wonder what the pack Elders would think of their precious Beta's behavior?"
There was a long silence on the other end of the line.
"You've changed, Eliza," Charles finally said, his voice low. "You used to be sweet."
"Sweet gets you nowhere in this world," I replied. "Sixty million, Charles. Take it or leave it."
I heard him typing on his phone, then a notification pinged on mine. The transfer was complete.
"Eliza, one day you'll regret this," he promised, his voice cold.
I ended the call without responding and immediately forwarded the funds to our pack's creditors. In my mental ledger, I marked another line: nine hundred forty million to go.
(Ethan's POV)
The Imperial Nightclub pulsed with energy, the bass vibrating through the floor as werewolves from various packs mingled in the dimly lit space. I sat in the VIP section, deliberately removed from the chaos below.
Gregory Phillips, the club's manager, approached with his usual obsequious smile. A Beta from a neutral pack, he'd managed the Imperial for years, carefully navigating the complex politics of werewolf hierarchy.
"Alpha King," he greeted, bowing slightly. "May I present some companions for your evening?"
I didn't respond, but Gregory took my silence as permission. With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a line of she-wolves, each more beautiful than the last. They stood before me, eyes downcast in submission to my Alpha status.
My long fingers idly turned a glass of red wine as my cold gaze swept across the women. I paused imperceptibly on a she-wolf in a red dress before looking away.
Gregory, ever attentive, caught my momentary interest and pushed the girl forward.
"This one is our best dancer," he said eagerly. "Her movements are as supple and enticing as any wolfess in Silver Creek."
The she-wolf smiled seductively, but all I could think about was Eliza Stone arching her waist in abandon in that parking garage. No one wore red as brazenly as she did.
My mind drifted further back, to eight years ago. A girl in the rehabilitation facility had also loved red dresses. Though I had been blind then, I imagined she must have looked beautiful.
She would be about Eliza's age now. After I left for treatment abroad, I never saw her again. She never called the number I'd left her.
A wave of listlessness washed over me. These women, with their practiced seduction and calculated submission, held no interest for me.
"Send them away," I told Gregory, my voice leaving no room for argument.
Gregory's smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. "Of course, Alpha King. Perhaps another time."
As the women retreated, I took another sip of my wine, letting the rich flavor roll across my tongue. The red liquid reminded me of blood—of life and power and the primal nature of our kind.
(Jackson's POV)
I settled into the plush seat beside Ethan, smirking as I watched the parade of rejected females slink away. My old friend had always been particular, but his standards seemed to have reached new heights lately.
"King," I began, using the nickname I'd given him years ago, "I heard you snatched your nephew's mate at the engagement banquet. That she-wolf must be a real stunner."
Ethan didn't respond, his expression impassive as he stared into his wine glass.
"The whole territory is talking about it," I continued, undeterred by his silence. "Charles Howe on his knees, begging for mercy while you claimed his fiancée. Classic!"
I signaled for another drink, my eyes scanning the crowded club. As Alpha heir to the Kelly pack, I enjoyed certain privileges—the best tables, the finest drinks, and the attention of the most beautiful she-wolves.
"You know, I always thought Charles was a bit of a—" My words died in my throat as my gaze landed on a vision in pale silk.
She moved through the crowd with practiced ease, her snow-white skin radiating a purity that paradoxically seemed seductive. Her amber eyes, enhanced by subtle makeup, glowed in the club's dim lighting.
"Temptress!" I exclaimed, grabbing Ethan's arm. "King, there's a temptress here!"
Ethan followed my gaze, his expression unchanging as he spotted the female who had captured my attention.
"Eliza Stone," I breathed, watching as she navigated through the VIP section. "Every wolf in Silver Creek wanted to claim her, but she was impossible to get."
The notorious Stone pack heiress carried herself with a confidence that belied her pack's fallen status. Her pale dress flowed around her like moonlight, drawing the eye to her perfect figure.
"Now that her pack's bankrupt, maybe she's more accessible," I mused, unable to tear my eyes away. "She's a real temptress. Having s*x together must be ecstasy. By the way, Your Majesty, who was the woman you claimed yesterday?""
Ethan's voice, when he finally spoke, was casual but carried an undercurrent I couldn't quite identify.
"Eliza."
"……"
"……"
"……"
- Writer
